Of the Company
by Auryn Rei Evroren
Summary: A view of the Pocahontas story through the eyes of someone we haven't exactly seen much. Travel to the New World of Virginia with Andrew Davieson, and see what he thinks when his best friend Thomas wanders off to trail after the famous John Smith.
1. Chapter 1: Setting Sail

**Hello everyone, Auryn here. Here's just a quick bit of information about this story. The character of Andrew Davieson, my protagonist, DOES in fact exist, for all of two seconds in the middle of the "Savages" musical number (He's the guy playing the drum for the settlers that they show just before "Let's go get a few, men!"). He caught my eye when I was about ten, and I've noticed him ever since. Now that I've begun writing, I decided he needs an actual character story behind him. So here it is.**

**Enjoy!  
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**Of the Company**

_**By Auryn Rei Evroren**_

_Part 1_

My name is Andrew. Andrew Davieson. Writing is not my forte, unfortunately, but I shall attempt to pen my story nonetheless. I don't think it is really worth writing, but Thomas has a most irritating pout face, and it is impossible to deny him anything.

Here I am rambling about nothing. I shall cease at once, and begin with my tale.

I first met Thomas two months or so before we joined the Virginia Company and set sail for the New World. We were apprentices, he for a printer, I for a blacksmith. My master's shop was next door to the pressroom, which made it all the easier for us to become friends. He thought I was crazy for learning the art of smithing, and I thought likewise of him. Who could be happy doing nothing but print newspapers in a stuffy room all day? At least the smithy had air circulation.

The one thing we had in common, Thomas and I, was a desire to learn more of the world. We couldn't wait for the Crown to declare a new voyage to the New World, the land of gold and adventure. We discussed that subject more than anything else.

A month or so after Thomas and I met, a public announcement was posted, stating that the Virginia Company planned a voyage, and was looking for crewmen. We signed on at once.

"Thomas," I asked him, "-are you sure that Mr. Marston will let you go? He only has one other apprentice, and with you gone…" He refused to even hear the end of the sentence. "He'll understand," Thomas told me with a type of fervor in his eyes. "He has to." I didn't dare contradict him. I simply sighed and went back to work. I wouldn't have a problem getting away from work, for my master had several apprentices, and if it came to it, my younger brother William could take over for me. He's been trailing after me for weeks, wanting to learn the craft, and this would be the perfect opportunity for him.

As it turned out, Thomas did have some problems with Mr. Marston. I was listening at the pressroom window when he told Thomas that if he left for the New World, it would mean the end of his career in printing. I suppose he made his choice. He went home to his sister, her husband, and their daughter (Thomas' parents died in an epidemic a few years back) and they weren't happy, but they supported his choice.

A month later, we went to the docks, ready to go. I saw Thomas in the distance, saying goodbye to his family. His niece, Rachel, rode on her father's shoulders, smiling, wearing a pair of Thomas' old breeches. She did love to do that. Thomas and I used to joke that someday, Rachel and my brother William would end up being sweethearts.

Thomas kissed his sister Anna on the head, and shook his brother-in-law James' hand. Rachel laughed and plopped her favorite floppy hat on Thomas' head, and from that day on, I swear I never saw him without it (except once, which I will tell about later). Anyway, Thomas pinched her cheek and went to board. I saw him conversing with some other voyagers and was about to join him when I felt a hand touch my arm. I spun round to find myself face to face with the beautiful Charlotte Wickham.

Let me explain about Charlotte. Had she been allowed by her strict parents, she would have been Thomas' sweetheart. Her father had forbidden her to see him, because he viewed the newspaper as a waste of time, and a terrible and useless career choice. He preferred those who chose something more worthwhile, which, in his opinion, meant me. Smithing was a fine job in his eyes. So, between the three of us, Charlotte, Thomas, and I hatched a plan. We would give Charlotte's father the impression that she was seeing me, and I would earn his respect enough to take her out someplace, where we would meet Thomas and I would make myself scarce until they called for me to take her home. It worked well.

I was a bit surprised that she had been allowed to see "me" off. I had told her parents that I was leaving for the New World, but they hadn't said anything about seeing me off. I had assumed that I would just…leave (my parents weren't the sort to be sentimental about such things).

"Andrew, you will look after him, won't you?" Charlotte asked me breathlessly. I nodded. "Of course I will. You know that." She sighed in relief. "I just wanted to be sure. Promise you won't let him get hurt…or do anything ridiculous." We smiled together- Thomas had a knack for embarrassing himself. Most of the time, however, it was amusing.

A horn blew, signifying that the ship would sail in five minutes. I had to move quickly. "Shall I tell him you said goodbye?" I asked Charlotte, and she nodded, giving me a hug. "I'll miss you both," she said. "Now go, you'll be late." I nodded and ran off, boarding the ship just ahead of our acting governor, Ratcliffe. Thomas waved me over to come stand with him, but I shook my head. I didn't want to meet anyone new just yet. So I just disappeared belowdecks and waited for things to get moving.


	2. Chapter 2: Adventure Awaits

**Of the Company**

_**By Auryn Rei Evroren**_

_Part 2_

Now for that time Thomas lost his hat. About a week after we set out from London, our ship, the _Susan Constant_, hit a terrible tempest in the mid-Atlantic. Thunder pounded above our heads as if God himself was playing his war drums. I suppose there was lightning, also, but I only noticed the thunder. It was like music to me, terrifying yet captivating music. It struck a chord within me so deep that it took days for me to find it again. However, for the moment, I had to concentrate on helping the ship get through this storm, or we'd all be in Davy Jones' locker in a heartbeat.

"Andrew, d'you know anything much about sailing?" one of the older sailors demanded quickly, shouting over the crashing thunder. I shook my head no. He nodded. "Then work the pump. We're takin' on water like crazy down there, and it's gotta be bailed out before it drowns us all." He shoved me below, towards the waterpump. I began yanking the iron lever up and down. Soon, another member of the crew joined me, whose name I couldn't remember. We worked hard, pumping out the water as quickly as we could.

This went on for hours, it seemed, until my arms were so weak I couldn't have done any more if I'd tried. Lucky for me, replacements came from up on deck, two men who had been hurt. One of them had twisted his ankle, the other had a gash in his head that was probably making him lightheaded. Both of them had fine arms, though, so my partner (whose name, I had discovered, was Edward) and I went up to the deck.

It was chaos. Absolute chaos, as if unleashed by Pandora herself. I staggered for several feet, catching myself against the main mast, just in time to hear the cry from the crow's nest. _"Say your prayers, lads!"_ I looked up just in time to see a sickeningly familiar body go hurtling across the deck, smashing into the rail. It shattered, sending Thomas flying overboard. His scream for help chilled my blood. _"Man overboard!"_ yelled the lookout. One of the other men called to the helmsman, _"Stay your course, he's lost!"_ That was Ben. He was a strong, burly man with black hair who had a strong accent. You could tell he'd been places. Despite my being about half his size, I grabbed his arm. "Don't you dare," I hissed. "We're getting him back, by God." I turned to look over the side, to see if I could spot Thomas, but I couldn't see him at all.

Apparently someone else saw him, though, because the next thing I knew, a man with sandy hair and wearing bright armor dove into the sea. He had a rope about him, thanks be to God, but I still think he was crazy to dive in wearing armor. Without that rope, he'd have sunk for sure.

Several moments passed, but I did not see what happened, for one of the ratlines was fraying in the wind, and I was sent up to let the whole thing loose before it tore our sails to pieces. Hanging there in the lines, fervently working at one of the more difficult knots, I watched with bated breath as Thomas and his rescuer were dragged back aboard. That was when I saw Thomas without his hat. I thought he had lost it in the sea, until I saw his friend pull it out of his pocket and plunk it onto his head with a playful tousle. The life-threatening dive didn't seem to have dampened _his_ spirits at all.

I finished loosing the ratlines and dropped back down to the deck. The storm began to fade. I went to go see if Thomas was alright, but somehow…I never made it over to him.

It must have been exhaustion. I blacked out, and woke up a few hours later, or so they tell me. I was in a hammock that wasn't mine, in one of the warmer cabins. That meant it definitely wasn't mine. I was about to ask what in God's name was going on, when I saw Thomas laying out flat on the floor, his hands behind his head, gazing up at the ceiling. "You're awake," he observed absentmindedly. I frowned. Shouldn't he have been a bit more concerned than that? "Yes," I said slowly. "What happened? You fell overboard…"

"And Captain Smith came in after me. He pulled us both back on board, with Ben and Lon and the others- he's a hero!" I heard the excitement in his voice. That explained a lot. Thomas was always excitable, always wanting to find the newest and most interesting things or people that he could. I sat up, grumbling about the headache I had, as Thomas rambled on and on about Smith. I wasn't really even listening, to be honest.

That was the first time I asked myself if coming on this voyage was the right thing to do. I had come along for the adventure, and I was already getting more than my fill of that. My only other real reason had been Thomas. He was the leader, I followed, usually without question. This wasn't exactly what I had signed on for. However, there was nothing I could really do about it- I've never been one for confrontation –so I just let it be.

It would have worked better if Captain Smith himself hadn't entered the moment Thomas shut his mouth. "So you're Andrew," he said to me, holding out a hand, which I shook. "Captain John Smith, at your service. Never been to sea before, have you?" I shook my head, and he laughed. "With you and Thomas aboard, I'll be lucky to reach the New World at all." I nodded. "He's a bit of a walking disaster," I admitted, "-but I don't know what I'd do without him. This must be your cabin." The Captain nodded. "Feel free to use it as long as you're feeling off, I've got night watch tonight so I won't be around." Someone on deck called for him- probably the governor. "I'll see you boys later, then," he said resignedly, and left to answer the summons.

"He's interesting," I said to Thomas. He nodded enthusiastically. "Not like a Captain at all, is he? I knew you'd love him, Andrew, I just knew it. Just wait till we get to the New World, it'll be you, me, and Smith, shooting savages left and right, digging up loads of gold, and having a grand old time. Don't you think?"

I didn't tell him what I really thought.


	3. Chapter 3: Shaken Up

**Of the Company**

_**By Auryn Rei Evroren**_

_Part 3_

Eventually we hit land. I don't remember exactly how long it took, but it was a miserable time, I can tell you. Thomas was never unenthusiastic- sometimes I wanted to just throw him over the side of the ship, along with his precious hero, and just spend the rest of the voyage tagging after Ben and Lon. They'd gotten used to me, the silent little shadow who did the work without complaint. The snide commentary I made under my breath never met their ears.

Thomas and I were both on Captain Smith's first landing crew. We stood at the ship's rail, waiting for the order to go ashore, just staring at it. The beautiful New World. It was a hundred times more spectacular than anyone had ever described it. If I had ever had any doubts about going all the way there, they were quelled right then. "It's incredible," Lon said. I shared his sentiments. "And it's all ours," Thomas added. "I've never seen anything like it!"

"It can look like Ratcliffe's knickers, for all I care," Ben grumbled, hauling over the ship's side ladder. "Just so long as we get off this stinking boat." I shared those sentiments too. I couldn't wait to get off the boat and touch land with my feet again. Lucky for us, Captain Smith was right there. "Come on, men," he said. "We didn't come all this way just to look at it." He was right.

We took one of the longboats ashore, heading up the river to see what we could find. The mosquitoes were absolutely awful, as Ben and I discovered, but Thomas, Lon, and Captain Smith were too busy admiring the scenery to notice. It must have been even more spectacular for Smith than anyone, as he disappeared the moment we landed. Thomas was looking around wildly while we worked to secure the ship. "John, tie off this end- John?" he was saying. I just sighed and took the rope. "I've got it, Thomas," I muttered, and tied the knot. He didn't pay a lick of attention to me, but it was no more than I expected. "John?" Thomas called again. I guess he caught sight of him, because the next thing I heard was, "What are you doing up there?"

I stopped listening after that. There was no point, since Thomas was apparently busy. So I just helped Ben and Lon and the others bring things ashore, waiting for Ratcliffe to disembark and claim the land for England.

It wasn't nearly as glorious one might think. A quarter of an hour later, we were set to work, finishing unloading the ship, building our home fort, and unfortunately, digging. Well, we knew there was gold in the New World, and one could only assume it wasn't right up top for everyone to see, but we hadn't expected it to be the _first thing_ we did. I say 'we' to reference our group of settlers in general- personally, I was helping to build the fort. They needed someone with a fair amount of brute strength to hold things in place while the carpenters worked, and I had enough from working in the forge. So I lifted log after log, as many as the few men assigned to timberfall could cut down (most were digging, or the work would have gone faster). It went on for hours, and my arms soon ached from the work. Thomas expressed similar sentiments from endless work with a shovel. The diggers were finding nothing, and the builders were accomplishing very little. It was so tedious, no wonder the cry of "Savages! It's an ambush, arm yourselves!" came as such a surprise.

"Here!" yelled one of the men (name of Henry), and threw me a pair of muskets. I caught them, put both under my arm, and lowered a hand to help Thomas climb out of his hole. He then took the second musket and ran forward. I ducked down behind a thick log with some of the other men. Unfortunately, as I was raising my gun and aiming, Thomas ended up only falling over the tree that had been felled just before the ambush. His musket discharged at the same time as I fired, so I didn't see where the shot went, but the next thing I knew, Thomas was on the ground under the truly evil gaze of the governor. "Idiot," Ratcliffe spat.

After that, all attention went back to the skirmish at hand. I shot like mad, glancing around to make sure they weren't aiming at me with their arrows. A few came near, but the first one whizzed past by about half a foot. "Andrew, get down!" I heard someone yell, and ducked just as the second one went flying over my head.

By the time I was up again, the rain of arrows had stopped, and it looked like the savages were retreating. The men were cheering, even. "Shut up," snarled the governor. "Shut up you fools! They'll be back." He tossed out a few more commands as I went to go see how Thomas had fared through the rest of the fight, but I wasn't quick enough. "…learn to use that thing properly," I heard Ratcliffe snarl at my friend. "A man's not a man unless he knows how to shoot."

When the governor stalked off toward what we had thusfar of the fort, I approached Thomas, bracing one foot on the log he had tripped over, and now sat with his back against. "Must have had some sort of fun, to get the governor angry," I said, chuckling. He sighed. "Doesn't take much at all," he muttered as I helped him up. "Just don't think about it, Thomas," I told him as we began walking back towards the 'fort'. "Just a little help, and you'll be a better shot than the governor himself," I hinted. Thomas' eyes lit up. "You mean- Andrew, you think John Smith can help me shoot better?" I stopped.

_That's not what I meant, Thomas, you idiot. Ratcliffe was right, you're a bumbling fool. I'll be surprised if you're not ambushed by savages on your frist night on watch._

I didn't say what I wanted to say. Instead I just looked ahead, not meeting my friend's eyes. "'Course he could, Thomas. Look, I'm going on ahead, they probably need me if they're going back to the building." Thomas nodded, his gaze completely distracted. He was most likely thinking of the many things John Smith could teach him. I felt….tight….in my lungs, it was like I couldn't breathe properly. My chest restricted uncomfortably. It hurt, that first time, but after a while of it, day after day, I because accustomed to it. Finally, I figured out what that feeling was: envy.


	4. Chapter 4: Steady As the Beating Drum

**Of the Company**

_**By Auryn Rei Evroren**_

_Part 4_

We dug for days. Again, 'we' as a general term. I spent most of my time helping to build the fort. During that time, I discovered the most amazing thing. How I never saw it before, working in the forge, I'll never know. What I discovered, the other settlers told me, was rhythm. It was in the thunder, during the storm at sea, and again in the hammering of nails and pegs as we constructed our fort. Every beat was like power to me, a power that brought together the gracefulness of music and dance to meet the force of sheer brute strength. It was perfect for me. It gave me something to do while I wasn't speaking much to Thomas.

By then, I had many more friends than Thomas alone. I was the quiet shadow who followed Ben and Lon, and they mentored me in the ways of people in general. Ben and I shared witty comments, and Lon told me more urban legends than I ever wanted to know. Besides them there was Edward, my bailing companion from the ship. It turned out that he was a master whittler, and could make nearly anything out of a stick of wood, with only his belt-knife. He taught me a few tricks, and even made an elegant little wooden raccoon, "to remember the New World by", should I ever go home. I knew it was to remember him, and he knew that I knew it, but it remained a secret between us two. Edward was the only one who heard anything about my resentment for Thomas, and he sympathized like no one I've ever met.

With those three- Ben, Lon, and Edward –I had all that I needed.

The days passed slowly, but at least they were filled with interest. For about a week, we met no Indians, but we finished the fort. By this I was saddened- there was no rhythm in digging. Even more unfortunately, digging was a tedious, boring task, which meant there was plenty of time for Thomas and I to talk to each other.

"You've been so distant with me lately," Thomas observed after nearly an entire day of silence from me. "You talk with the other men- I've heard you making jokes with them, all the time! But you won't talk to me." I sighed, pausing from my digging to rest on the handle of my shovel. "You hardly talk to me either," I told my best friend, a hint of a reprimand in my voice. "I haven't been able to get two words out of you for the past two weeks without hearing about that blasted John Smith." I inhaled sharply- I hadn't meant to say that part. I looked away as Thomas' eyes widened in shock. "W-what do you mean, Andrew?" he asked me.

"I meant what I said." My voice suddenly went cold, and even slightly angry. "Thomas, we agreed we were coming here to get rich, and to have an adventure, _together._ But ever since we set foot on the _Constant_, you've been trailing after John Smith like he's some sort of hero. Are you even a friend to me anymore, Thomas?"

My little speech had left him with nothing to say. Thomas did not meet my eyes, choosing instead to gaze down into his partially-dug hole. That gave me all the answer I needed. I glanced over my shoulder, looking around. "Henry!" I called, catching my friend's attention. "Take over, will you?" He nodded, a question in his eyes, until I shook my head. No answers now, unless Thomas was the one to give them. I handed Henry my shovel, and strode off toward the tent that Thomas and I shared. As I walked, I took deep breaths, trying not to let my heart become overburdened with anger. I had never been an angry person- folk used to compliment me on my levelheadedness –and I wasn't planning to become one then.

"Are you going to just walk away from him?" I heard an incredulous, heavily-accented voice ask me. I turned around in surprise to see Ben, a dark shape looming from the sinking, reddening sun. I swallowed, and nodded. "I can't talk to him right now." Ben sighed and shook his head. "Then you're being an idiot, running away," he said. "Face him like a man, Andrew!" I stepped away from Ben, and I'm sure an absolutely aghast look crossed my face. "You're a bloody coward, Andrew!" Ben called after me as I ran away from him.

I went outside the walls of the fort to calm down. First Thomas, tempting me to be angry with him, and then Ben, encouraging me to do so? I thought the whole world was against me for a moment there. I needed a place to pour all of my negative energy before it swallowed me whole. Searching desperately, I drew my knife and found a large stick, then sat with my back against the fort wall and began whittling, hoping that the frictional carving of the blade against the wood would satisfy me. However, I was disappointed to find that my frustration only made the work more difficult. When I couldn't stand it a moment longer, I took the stick I'd been working on and threw it with all of my strength at the nearest tree.

The sound it made when it hit reminded me of my interest in rhythm. It satisfied me like nothing ever had before. I decided that I needed a continuous rhythm, something I could do over and over again without stopping.

Through the woods drifted the sound of heavy drumming…the Indians were drumming. It sounded almost _happy_, as if something wonderful had happened. I listened to it for a moment, almost begging the sound to suffice, and for the moment, it did. The anger built up in my heart slowly began to dissipate, and the tightness in my shoulders loosened. The sound went on and on, cutting through the air, cutting through the fog of hurt surrounding me, calming me more than anything ever had.

I headed back into the fort, sheathing the knife that lay forgotten in my hand, absentmindedly tapping on its hilt. Immediately, knowing what I wanted to do, I sought out my friend Lon, and asked him what I could do to be one of the company's drummers.


	5. Chapter 5: Tried for Treason

**Of the Company**

_**By Auryn Rei Evroren**_

_Part 5_

I was roused from a sound stupor two days later by the sound of an angry governor. "Smith! Where have you been?!" Ratcliffe demanded. He'd been so on edge lately, and now we all knew why. It was Smith's constant disappearances.

I dropped down from my river lookout post atop our log wall, and listened to the conversation. "I was out- scouting the terrain, sir," Captain Smith said innocently, though I noticed from the look on his face that he was bracing himself for conflict. Ratcliffe didn't think twice about it at first. "Excellent," he said. "Then you must know the Indians' whereabouts. We'll need that information for the battle."

That caught me off-guard. Battle? What battle? No one had said anything about an attack, not a word. Wouldn't we have…? Luckily, Smith was there to speak for us. "What battle?" he asked, his brows narrowing and expression darkening. Ratcliffe turned his gaze on the Captain, a smirk spreading across his face. Apparently he had set this trap, and was enjoying watching it close in on his most efficient and well-liked soldier. "We will eliminate these savages once and for all," he said loftily. That set the Captain off, as the governer knew it would. "No!" Smith said angrily. "You can't do that!"

I came up behind Thomas, who had been on gate duty, and we shared looks of dread. That was most definitely the governor's breaking point. "Oh?" Ratcliffe sneered. "Can't I?" Smith's expression grew more serious, if that were even possible. "Look, we don't have to fight them," he said, looking around at the tiny crowd that had gathered, trying to convince us all. Then he returned his gaze to the governor's face, staring him down, ready to do whatever it took to make his point.

"John, what's gotten into you?" Thomas asked, stepping forward. It looked like Smith's little shadow was doubting him at last. I just sighed and put my musket over my shoulder, determined not to care. "I met one of them," Smith answered absentmindedly, as if it were nothing. Personally, I think he did it on purpose, trying to divert our- and the governor's –attention, but if it were so, he failed. There was an instant uproar.

"You _what?"_ Ben demanded. "A savage?" Thomas asked, his face falling as he realized where his hero had been sneaking off to. The men and I closed in on Smith, ready to put him on trial. "They're not savages!" Smith insisted. "They can help us! They know the land- they know how to navigate the rivers!"

I was unconvinced. The bloody Indians had attacked us not two hours after we landed, with no cause whatsoever. And now he was telling us they were to _help _us? Not a chance.

From somwhere, Smith produced a- well, now we call it 'corn', but I hadn't the foggiest idea what it was then. It was just a small, obolong green thing with a tuft at the end. Half of the tuft was pulled down to reveal golden kernels that shined in the light of the dying sun. "And look – it's food!" Smith said. We all stared at it, and at him. Was he completely crazy? "What is it?" Lon asked cluelessly. Honestly, sometimes that man was no better than Thomas. "It's better than hard tack and gruel," Smith answered cynically.

"I like gruel!" piped up Ratcliffe's own shadow, a small, wiry man with no such thing as a mind called Wiggins. None of us paid him the slightest attention, of course, because we were all watching for what Ratcliffe would do next. As it turned out, _that_ was his breaking point. He strode forward and snatched the corn out of Smith's hand. "They don't want to _feed_ us, you ninnys!" he snarled. "They want to kill us! All of us!" He grabbed one of the older soldiers, Simon, by shirt and shook him, to make his point. "They've got our gold- and they'll do anything to keep it!" the governor said sharply, and tossed Simon away.

"But there is no gold!"

…Smith's outburst had us all frozen for a splitsecond. _**What**__ did he say?_ we all asked ourselves. Ben was the one to voice the group confusion this time. "…No gold?" he asked incredulously.

Ratcliffe only continued to smirk. "And I suppose your little Indian friend told you this?" he sneered. "Yes," Smith answered confidently.

"Lies!" roared the governor. "Lies, all of it! Murderes, thieves- there's no room for their kind in civilized society!"

"But this is their land!" Smith retorted, getting fired up. I took a step back, yanking Thomas back with me. This wasn't something you wanted to be too close to, especially if (like Thomas) you hadn't a clue what was happening, because you were too busy trying to convince yourself of something else.

"This is my land!" barked Ratcliffe. "I make the laws here." He stepped dangerously close to Smith. "And I say that anyone who so much as _looks_ at an Indian without killing him on sight will be tried for treason…" Another step closer. He was right in the Captain's face now. "And _hanged."_

"He didn't even move a muscle. Have you ever met anyone as brave- or as _crazy_ as that Smith?"

"It was like he wasn't afraid at all!"

"Doesn't he know the governor could shoot him right here and now for that, and not even pay a penny to His Majesty for the waste?"

"S'pose not, or else he's a bigger idiot than we thought."

Smith was the only thing the men talked about for the rest of the evening. Some were on his side, other's, the governor's. Personally, I thought that Ratcliffe had the right of it. Hadn't those Indians attacked us with no necessary provocation? No one ever told them that this land was theirs, they had no one to claim it properly- they had no right to attack us, which meant they must have had another motive, and Ratcliffe's explanation was as good as any. Gold or no gold, I wasn't siding with Smith on this one.

"Ratcliffe wouldn't take us halfway round the world for nothin'," Ben said as we sat around the fire that evening. "But what if Smith's right?" Lon interjected. "What if there is no gold?"

"You ask me," someone said quietly, "Ratcliffe's been lying to us since we left London."

"Listen to ye, ye bunch of idiots!" Ben crowed. "Those savages didn't attack us for nothin'! They're hidin' somethin'."

"But if they do have the gold," Lon said worriedly, "I reckon we'll have to fight'em for it."

"Not me," I said. "I'm a decent shot, but not enough for more'n a hundred of them." Most of the other men nodded and grumbled their agreement with me. I glanced up to see what Thomas thought, but he was gone. I suppose he'd gone off to sulk over Smith again. _Well, let him do it,_ I thought to myself, as the group began to disperse for the night. _He's no right to make the rest of us any more miserable than as may be already, and it'll do him some good to think things over about his precious hero._

I went to our tent and lay down, I thought, without a single qualm. There must have been some other reason why I didn't fall asleep for hours.


	6. Chapter 6: Savages

**Of the Company**

_**By Auryn Rei Evroren**_

_Part 6_

Hours passed. Hours, and hours…I couldn't sleep, it was hopeless. So I sat up, without a single candle lit, just…sitting there. Staring. Thinking. What about, I can hardly remember. After a while, the thinking got to be just a little too much, so I got up. The night guards- Ben and Lon, that night –were up as well, but I didn't want to distract them, or have them ask what I was doing. Quietly, almost silently, I undertook countless small tasks to keep my hands busy. I repaired one of the shovels that had been snapped at the head, I cleaned muskets, I even had a shave for the first time since leaving home. Not because it was necessary, I just needed more distraction.

When the muskets were all replaced, my face was smooth, and our tools were in good working order, I went trudging to the edge of the wall, intent on going out into the woods to think some more. However, no sooner had made it there than I heard a distant screaming. That was a familiar voice…

"Help! Somebody help! _Help!"_

Thomas came tearing into the camp, musket in one hand, his face alight with panic. I ducked into the shadows of the log wall, out of sight of the other men, just as Ben and Lon looked over the wall's edge.

"Easy, lad!" Lon called. "What it is?" The response sent a shiver up my spine. "It's Smith!" Thomas cried. "They got him!"

All hell broke loose.

"Who's got him?

"The savages!"

"_Savages?"_

"They captured him- dragged him off!"

"Where'd they take him?"

"They headed north!"

"How many were there?"

"I dunno, at least a dozen!"

"Filthy beasts-"

Thomas was shooting out answers as quickly as people could make up the questions to ask. Lights appeared everywhere as more and more of the men awoke from all the ruckus. I saw no sign of the governor or Wiggins, but that would come soon, I was sure.

"We've got to save him," Thomas cried desperately. "He'd do the same for any of us!"

Ben nodded. "Thomas is right, we've got to do something!"

Right on cue, the governor appeared. The men turned all in his direction at once, startled, all but me. From my place, I could see and hear all, and it was much easier in the shadows than in the candlelight.

"And so we shall!" Ratcliffe thundered. "I told you those savages couldn't be trusted. _Smith_," the name was twisted in his mouth, as if he wasn't far from contempt at the mere mention of Smith, "-tried to befriend them. And look what they've done to him!" Again, Simon was the poor lad on the wrong end of the governor's aggression. I'd have to tell him to quit standing on Ratcliffe's left.

"But now I say it's time to rescue our courageous comrade," Ratcliffe continued, his anger mounting. "At daybreak, we attack!"

The men all cheered, but for Thomas. Why wasn't he part of it? It was _his_ hero after all that was on the death line here, of all the people present, shouldn't _he_ have been ready for the attack?

I fetched my drum with the other drummers as most of the soldiers fetched armor and weapons. They were pleased to see that the muskets were shaped up a bit better than the day before, though they were too blasted distracted to mention it at the time. That was alright by me, though- weapons are meant to be used, not admired.

War drums began in the distance, angry, savage war drums. We matched them with our own, a more civilized (yet equally threatening) pattern that would have struck fear into the hearts of any normal Englishman. As it stood, we hadn't a clue if the Indians even heard it, but I sure as hell hoped they did. They deserved that fear.

The cannons were wheeled out, ready. I pounded the drums faster and harder than any of the others, imitating the terrible thunder of our tempestual adventure at sea with remarkably satisfying results. I don't know if it was just me, but somehow I saw the flash of lightning through the sky to match our thunder.

_Now we'll teach them what justice means._

* * *

It went on late into the night. If any of them men got any sleep at all, it was only for an hour or two at the most. Certainly Thomas and I got no sleep- we were too busy talking, debating…arguing.

We lay in our beds, Thomas on his side, propping his head up on his hand, trying to talk to me. I was on my belly, my face buried in my arm (which I was using as a pillow), trying to ignore him. As it happened, he won.

"Andrew…d'you think fighting's the way to go?" he asked me, as if we'd never argued before, as if I'd never been angry with him.

I peered at my friend from under my arm. "How else would you do it, Thomas?" I asked him cynically. He shrugged, and said, "I dunno…John was of a mind to talk to them, you remember."

"Oh yes," I said darkly. "Talk to them. That would be suicide, Thomas, and you know it." He sighed, sitting up fully. "Maybe it wouldn't be, Andrew," he said abruptly, his eyes lighting up again. "Maybe they'd just let him go if they realized all we wanted was-"

"Please, Thomas, are you crazy?" I interrupted. "You're not telling me you believe Smith's fairy story."

He looked at me like _I_ was completely mad. "'Course I do, Andrew," he told me as if it were obvious. "You…you don't believe what Ratcliffe said, do you?" His face was so worried, I could tell he was afraid. He'd already lost John Smith, all he had left was me, and that was it. I decided not to make a decision on that.

"I dunno, Thomas…I'm just a makeshift sailor and soldier, and before that, I was an apprentice. I don't have to believe anything, I just do what I'm told. And that's what you're going to do, because I'm telling you to go to sleep." With that, I rolled over so I was facing the tent's canvas wall, ignoring him completely. A moment later, I heard a sigh, and the sounds of the cot creaking and blankets rustling as Thomas curled up to go to sleep. God knows we needed it…if we'd only known what was to happen come morning.


	7. Chapter 7: Word of the Day

**Of the Company**

_**By Auryn Rei Evroren**_

_Part 7_

We were awakened before dawn. Ratcliffe demanded that we be ready to go in five minutes or he'd hang us all and tell the king that we fell to the savages. We moved fast. Thomas and I didn't even talk as we dressed and grabbed our muskets. Outside, the men were forming ranks at the fort wall. Perhaps we were more soldier-like at this point than any of us had realized. We formed a brotherhood if nothing else, depending on each other to keep our lives intact. Well, now we owed one of our brothers- Smith had been captured, yes, but it wasn't over yet. The settlers of the New World shores were going to rescue him.

"Let's go, men!"

I'd been daydreaming, and hadn't noticed that we were all ready. Ratcliffe himself led us out of the fort and over the hill toward the savage village, with Thomas, Ben, and Lon following directly behind him. All of them had determined looks upon their faces except Thomas. That didn't exactly surprise me. I cast his opinion from my mind, and fell in with Edward and Henry, and kept my eyes to the boots of the man in front of me for the majority of the trek.

"Andrew, are you okay, lad?" Edward and Henry were such kind people, I hated to let them in on my problems. I sighed. "M'fine, Edward. Just wondering if we'll all make it out of here alive." It was as good an excuse as any. Who would believe me if I said I was worried for Thomas? We were best friends…but no one would understand. Henry nodded enthusiastically. "Chin up, mate! Us against them savages? They haven't got a chance, do they!" He was ready for this. He was so excited. Edward said nothing, only stared at me and shrugged.

A series of hoots and calls exploded as we neared the village, settled on the forest's edge. They had sentries posted, of course, but it wasn't as if we were hiding. _Let them come,_ I thought. We could handle them, and we would. _Just keep looking at it like that, Andrew. Don't let doubt in, and it can't consume you._

They were clustered around a large, jutted-out cliff. At the top stood ranks and ranks of archers, and they were dragging Smith to the very peak of it, bound with ropes. All of us raised our muskets and aimed, ready to shoot. The archers, of course, aimed back at us. Whispers ran through the ranks- why hadn't we been given a fire order yet?

Smith was thrown to the ground. The chief of the tribe stood there with a thick staff- they planned to beat him to death.

The chief raised his staff.

Why weren't we shooting?!

My finger was itching on the trigger, and I couldn't see any of the savage archers aiming for me. I could take the shot now, take out the chief…

"No!"

A young woman- one of the savages –forced her way through the ranks of archers and threw herself across Smith's limp body. She panted hard, as if she'd been running. Her long, black hair flew behind her like a banner. She was fairly good-looking, for one of them, but still.

She spoke more words, but of course, I couldn't understand her at all. She was so far away- at least twenty feet higher up than we –and she was probably speaking in her native language. The chief said something back to her, and she _shouted_ at him! Whatever it was that she said made the air go tight- tense.

Everyone in the vicinity seemed completely starstruck. No one said a word, for several moments…

The archers began to lower their weapons. We followed suit, but I doubt I was the only one who kept a hand on the trigger just in case. All eyes were on the chief. The girl must have questioned him or given an ultimatum or some such thing. She seemed determined to save Captain Smith from the fate that awaited him. The archers, anticipating a fire order, raised their bows again, and we countered by raising our muskets, but we halted halfway into the motion. The chief had thrown his staff into the air in both hands, and was speaking. He was much louder than the girl, and he spoke proper English (though not exactly fluently). We understood him.

"My daughter speaks with a wisdom beyond her years," he announced. "We have all come here with anger in our hearts, but she comes with courage, and understanding. From this day forward, if there is to be more killing, it will not start with me." He turned to one of his fellows and commanded him in native-speak. The next thing we knew, Smith's bonds were cut, and he had his arms around his savior in one of the most intimate hugs I have ever seen.

That, I assure you, was extremely shocking. Even to this day I cannot understand how he managed whatever it was that happened between them. It was evident that they already knew her, of course, which meant we all knew who his 'little Indian friend' was.

"Now is our chance!"

The governor called us all back to attention. "Fire!" he commanded. I raised my gun, ready, aiming for the closest Indian possible- the chief.

"No."

All of the settlers froze, staring straight at Thomas. My friend Thomas, the daydreamer, the adventure-crazed, the slipshod skill-less settler, was facing down the governor.

"What?" Ratcliffe asked, startled, yet angry. I put down my weapon.

"They let him go!" Thomas said.

"They don't want to fight!" added Ben, stepping out to support Thomas.

Ratcliffe snarled, "It's a trick, don't you see- fire!" This command was more urgent, but got no better a response than the first. Lon joined Ben and Thomas.

The governor turned on them with what looked like _fear_ in his eyes. He pointed his sword at the three of them with a shaky hand, then growled.

"Fine! I'll settle this myself."

He snatched a musket out of Edward's hands, and pointed it straight at the Indian chief. I made up my mind, and aimed my own weapon as well.

"No!"

Well wasn't _that_ the word of the day. This time it was Smith and he reached forward and shoved the chief back, then fell as Ratcliffe fired, the governor's musket ball in his side.

"John!" Thomas yelled, frightened. I clutched the gun in my hand, my knuckles pale white, as I slunk back, out of the way, without firing.

Smith's girl dropped to her knees. She seemed as frightened as Thomas was. Ratcliffe lowered the gun quickly, eyes darting around.

"You shot him!" Thomas accused him, still in shock.

"He stepped right- right into it!" the governor said, trying to defend himself. The settlers closed in around him.

"Smith was right!"

"We never should have listened to you!"

"Get the gun!"

Two moments later, Ratcliffe was overpowered by the hands of st least ten soldiers. Thomas ripped the musket out of his hands, and called, "Put him in chains!" Ratcliffe struggled forward, right into Thomas' face. "I'll see you all _hanged_ for this," he growled.

"And gag him as well," Thomas added sternly. They dragged Ratcliffe away as I melted into the trees, out of sight.


	8. Chapter 8: Perfectly Serious

**Of the Company**

_**By Auryn Rei Evroren**_

_Part 8_

I ran for it. Certainly someone had seen me with my gun up, ready to shoot even when everyone else turned against the governor. If that wasn't a dangerous thought, I didn't know what was.

Through the trees, I ran…and ran, and ran. Until I was out of breath. I was headed in the direction of the fort, but I didn't really intend to wind up there yet. I didn't know what I was going to do. If I went back and someone had seen me, I risked being hanged. But ther was nowhere else to go, except back.

I knew where I needed to be…England. I wanted to go _home_, back to England, where I knew how everything was meant to be, and could make my way in a successful career. This place wasn't for me.

I took a seat on a large root that stuck up from the ground.

"Young man, what do you think you are doing?"

I leaped a foot into the air. That voice had come from _nowhere!_ I turned around in every direction, my musket raised, ready to shoot…but I saw no one.

"Put that thing down, boy."

I spun toward the sound of the voice, and still couldn't find anyone. "Who are you?"I demanded sharply. "Show yourself!"

"Well if you'd just look up here, you'd see me just fine."

The voice was feminine- old, but feminine. She was clear, too, unlike any savage who had learned English. We settlers hadn't brought any women with us, though…

I looked up, and nearly fainted.

There was a tree above me, and it had a _face._ A _face_, on a _tree!_ I had to be dreaming.

I'm quite sure all of the color drained from my face.

She- the face –snorted. "Sit down before you faint, boy, and tell me who you are. I haven't met a stranger since that John Smith character, and I rather like it."

I sat.

"Now, who are you? she asked again.

I swallowed hard. My throat was so dry I could hardly speak. "An-Andrew Davieson, um, ma'am," I stammered.

"Well Andrew Davieson, would you mind telling me what exactly you are doing here?

This had to be a dream. That was it- I must have fallen and hit my head, or perhaps I'd never even woken up this morning. I was dreaming.

"I…I…"

If this was a dream, and it wasn't real, why shouldn't there be a talking tree? I resigned myself to it, and climbed up to the higher fallen tree trunk where I could sit more comfortably.

"I'm running," I confessed.

The tree raised her eyebrow, if that was possible for a tree to do.

"You look like you're sitting, to me."

I sighed. "I mean, I'm running from my friends. I don't think they're my friends anymore."

"Why would you think that?"

I laughed cynically. "Oh, I don't know, maybe because I just almost killed an Indian chief two seconds after he made peace with our settlement!"

She didn't say anything back.

"They had to have seen it, too," I added glumly. "If I go back, I'll be hanged for treason. What am I supposed to do? Go live with the Indians? That's a laugh!"

"Oh, I wouldn't say that, exactly. But you wouldn't like living with them anyway."

This tree was an interesting character, so to speak. I didn't know my mind had the capability to come up with such an interesting…er, person.

"Then what am I going to do?" I asked. This was my own mind, and if I'm being this snarky, it usually means I'm feeling intelligent.

"Go back, of course."

"What?"

"Go back."

"You can't be serious!"

"I am perfectly serious, Andrew Davieson. _Go back_."

I stood up, ready to just walk away in a huff, but I felt that my ankle was trapped. When I turned round, the willow tree had thrown one of her long, leafy vines in a tight loop around my foot, preventing me from going anywhere.

"Watch this," she said, and lifted another vine. I had to lean over to watch as she dipped it into the river that ran alongside her. Ripples panned out in every direction.

I raised my brow at her, this time. "What about it?"

"If what you say is true, then a ripple was begun this very day. That ripple is a ripple of forgiveness. If you think that your friends won't forgive you for what you think you've done, then you must not have seen it correctly. And they must not be very good friends."

Well wasn't that a show-stopper. A tree was putting me in my place!

She had a point, though. Lon, Edward, and Henry would understand in a heartbeat…and with a little convincing, I could get Ben to see my side of things as well. Thomas was the only uncertain factor.

One invisible vote to four, running away lost. I'd have to go back.

"Alright then. If that's how it's going to be."

The tree snorted. "Well aren't _you_ something special. Now get out of here before your attitude makes my roots go dry."

I laughed and climbed down, heading off into the trees toward the fort.

"He's back, lads!"

"Andrew, is that you?!"

"Someone get Thomas out here!"

I wasn't welcomed in silence, at least. I was dragged into the fort as roughly as if I was being tailed by a pack of wolves. I found myself surrounded by the men of the fort, starting with Ben and Lon. Lon grinned at me- Ben scowled, as usual. "I knew you wouldn't do it, Andrew!" Lon said. Henry poked his head around from behind Lon. "That's right!" he chimed in. "You'd never shoot anyone after something like that!"

"You saw me?" I asked. Lon shook his head. "Ben did. He told us all, but he was the only one who saw anything," he told me. I shrugged. "Well, no, of course I wouldn't shoot anyone after…you know."

"You were aiming, though."

That wasn't anyone I wanted to speak to. That was Thomas.

He made his way to the center of the circle of men that surrounded me, his arms folded across his chest. I stared straight into his eyes, matching him for coldness.

"Yes, I was aiming, Thomas," I said calmly. "Unlike you, I've been trained to follow orders. However, once I took a moment to use my head, like you're always doing, I put the gun down. That's all that matters, isn't it?"

The men all held their breath. Thomas was practically their leader now, and everything depended on his decision. Including whether I lived or died.

Thomas sighed. "I suppose you're right."

Henry let out the happiest yell I've ever heard, followed by the cheers of the rest of the men. Seemingly more of them liked me than I'd realized.

After that, it was all just one big blur. There was drinking, and cheering, and a celebration, but I remember very little of it. The first chance I got, I joined the crew of men who had already started to prepare the ship to depart in the morning, to take John Smith back to England before his wound destroyed him. I would go back with him, I had decided. England was where I needed to be.

That night, I fell asleep on board the ship, up on the deck. I'd been mending a sail that had been torn during the storm at sea, and had fallen asleep leaning against the rail, under the stars. When I woke the next morning, it was to the sounds of men bringing things aboard. As I yawned and looked back at the fort, I saw the men standing in a huddle around Smith, who was lying on a stretcher. The last longboat of cargo- well, Ratcliffe in chains –was on its way to the _Constant_. I could guess what the men were waiting for. What Smith was waiting for.

Considering that I was uninterested in seeing the Indians again, I simply waited where I was. Everything was on board and we were ready to make way. We waited for Smith, and when he was on, we could leave. There was no reason to go back to shore.

Finally, Smith's longboat was shoved off, the men inside it rowing quickly for the _Constant_. When they reached us, I helped haul them up and get Smith situated. He refused to go below, but wanted to stay on deck. I nodded, understanding slightly, and let him be. I had somehow edged into being co-captain of the ship with Edward, seeing as how the original captain was planning to remain in the New World with most of them. t was a skeleton crew that would sail to England, and an even smaller crew that would return.

This was how it was going to end. _So much for dreams,_ I thought, considering how Thomas and I had eagerly started our voyage. Who had known it would bring us here?

I turned my face to the wind as we hauled anchor. Finally, I was where I really wanted to be.

(With an interesting story to boot!)

* * *

**_(Hello everyone, Auryn here. Just to answer the question before I get it a million times, YES, I do believe there will be more to this story. I'm trying to make it a full ten chapters. I hope you've enjoyed it thusfar, and please keep reading!)_**


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